


Between Last Light and First

by Lynniethebeegirl



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 00:06:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8511142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynniethebeegirl/pseuds/Lynniethebeegirl
Summary: During a time of political tension Clarke and Lexa both sleep in Lexa's room for added protection, but after the danger has passed they continue sharing space.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s at least the fifteenth meeting of the night when someone pulls out the knife and makes a run at Lexa. She slits his throat easily, and shoves his body away, a lazy movement, splattering his blood across the floor. Clarke is barely conscious, so exhausted that the stab of fear she feels when the knife appears fades to nothing as soon as she sees Lexa has it handled. 

So exhausted that she doesn’t see the next knives coming. One flies across the room, lodging in Lexa’s shoulder. And suddenly Clarke is hauled to her feet, a trickle of blood running down her neck where a knife is pressed into her skin.

“Release her!” Lexa holds her knife in her left hand, still soaked with the blood of the first man.

“Let me kill her and let me go free, and you may escape with your life. We wanted both of you dead, but one will suffice.”

Clarke closes her eyes. She knows that Lexa would let her die to save her own people, she’d done it once before. But if it was only Lexa’s life, and only a vague threat, then Clarke might have some hope.

Where was Titus? He’d protected Lexa before, and he wasn’t even moving from his spot when Lexa was clearly in danger.

Clarke opens her eyes in time to see Lexa adjust her grip on the knife, and then throw it towards Clarke’s face, barely missing and plunging into the face of her captor.

He releases her, and she falls to her knees, gasping. Lexa makes eye contact with her, and Clarke nods, and Lexa looks back to the meeting, anger in her eyes.

“There have been multiple attempts to murder both me, your commander, and one of the ambassadors, one of your own people. Everyone in this room is suspect, and will be watched carefully. The meeting is over. My guards will escort you to your rooms and stand guard to avoid further incidents.”

Everyone else files out, until it’s only Clarke, Lexa, and Titus.

“Titus, again remind me how many guards we have here tonight.”

“Nearly two hundred, but most are stationed along the lower levels, to avoid assassins.”

“Well the assassins are already in the tower. How many can we spare to guard our guests?”

“Fifty, Heda, you’re hurt, I insist that you and wanheda be escorted to your rooms and your wounds be attended to.”

“Clarke is also injured, we’ll both go to my quarters, and discuss the situation in private.” Lexa nods to Clarke. “This way, it’s not far.”

They walk in silence, Clarke trying to stay awake, the exhaustion and the adrenaline fighting for control. Lexa’s face is set, her arm is stiff, even though she refuses to flinch or attend to the bleeding. Titus fumes at both of them.

Lexa’s quarters are dark, and she lights a few candles on the table, and they huddle around them until several guards and a healer arrive.

“How many guards can we spare to monitor the guests?”

“Fifty. We can post a few on every floor.”

“I want a guard assigned to every guest in that room tonight. There was someone that threw that knife and left the room with his life, it could be any of them.”

“There were at least sixty guests. You’d have to bring up guards from the lower levels, or down from this level. It would take hours to arrange, you need rest.” The head of the guard grimaces when the knife is pulled from Lexa’s shoulder and a burning piece of metal is slipped into the hole, cauterizing it. Lexa only opens her mouth in silent pain.

“Assign as many guards as possible to the guests quarters. Wanheda will not return to her quarters tonight, she’ll stay here, and her guards will be reassigned to the guest’s quarters.”

Clarke thinks about objecting, but doesn’t bother. The healer tips up her chin and cleans the cut, but doesn’t bother to bandage it. The bleeding has mostly stopped anyways.

“Leave us, we’ll continue the reassignment of guards tomorrow, and the search for the owner of this knife.” Lexa stands, and everyone else files out.

“So I’m stuck here?” Clarke’s words slur, and Lexa turns to her, shoulders slumped, eyes tired.

“I’m sorry Clarke. It’s safest here, my guards are well trained. I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed.”

Clarke sees that every move Lexa makes is painful, but at the same time she feels like passing out. The couch won’t do either of them much good.

“We can share the bed, it’s big enough. I need nightclothes, my shirt has blood on it.”

Lexa nods sleepily, and gets Clarke an oversized shirt and some shorts. She disappears into another room, and Clarke gets changed and crawls into bed.

When she feels the mattress dip, she stays on the edge of her side of the bed, and drifts off into a dreamless sleep.

When morning breaks she sits up, glancing at Lexa. The outline of her arm is under her shirt, strapped to her chest to keep it immobile. There’s still some blood staining her cheek.

Clarke shakes herself back to the present. They’re here under guard because several people had tried to kill them last night, and one of them is still on the loose. Today they meet again with the leaders of the clans, and with whoever had thrown the knife.

She gets up, trying not to make a sound, and gathers up her clothes from the night before.

“Can you take me back to my room?” She asks a guard, and her leads her back.

When she sees Lexa later, in the throne room, Lexa’s arm is free, no visible sign of damage except for the barely noticeable padding around her torso. She can’t appear weak, not now.

The day is thankfully uneventful, but the person who knifed Lexa is still out there. More guards are brought in to guard the guests, and Clarke assumes she’ll return to her own room that night.

That evening Lexa shows up at her door, arm held gingerly at her side.

“Lexa? What’s wrong?” At first Clarke is worried that something may have happened in the war against the ice nation, that her people are in danger. But the way Lexa casts her eyes down, and the nightdress she’s wearing, tell Clarke that this isn’t a political mission.

“Back before the mountain, you told me you’d been training to be a healer. That your mother is one. I was wondering…” Lexa gestures at her limp arm, and Clarke understands.

“Here, sit down. I’ll see what I can do.” Clarke grabs a roll of bandages that she’s been stashing away in her room, not sure what she’s going to use them for, but feeling comforted knowing that there’s some good she could theoretically do. Lexa perches on the edge of Clarke’s bed.

“You need to keep your arm immobilized as much as possible. I understand that you need to use it in front of the clan leaders, but whenever you’re out of sight, keep it in a sling, or tied down.” Clarke makes a sling, and ties it around Lexa’s shoulders. “Keep it like that when you can, alright?”

Clarke knows that this is the same thing one of Lexa’s healers would have told her, and probably already has. She doesn’t really want to ask Lexa why she came here instead. She’s just comforted to see Lexa, the one familiar person in this sea of strangers.

“I’ll have extra guards posted by your door tonight, Clarke. You’ll be safe.” Lexa lifts her sling slightly. “Thank you.”

Lexa stand up to leave, but Clarke stops her.

“There’s no one else on this hallway, putting extra guards here would just be a waste. I’ll stay in your room again, if that’s alright, and the extra guards can keep an eye on us both.”

Lexa nods, and Clarke gathers up her clothes for the next day.

That night they aren’t quite so exhausted when the crawl into bed, and Clarke lies awake to the sound of Lexa shifting uncomfortably. The furs here are warmer than they are on her own bed, or maybe that’s just the shared body heat.

“Lexa, do you want me to strap your arm to your chest, like it was last night? That way you wouldn’t irritate the wound as much.” Clark mentally kicks herself, realizing what the actual tying of Lexa’s arm would involve. It’s too late to take it back now.

“If…” Lexa hesitates. “If you’d be willing, that would help a bit.”

Clarke sits up, in the dim candle light, and Lexa does to.

“Turn around and take your shirt and sling off.” Clarke stares at the ceiling, though it won’t make a difference in the long run. She’ll have to look at Lexa to tie the bandages.

“Okay.” 

Clarke looks down. Lexa’s hair is tied up, to keep it away from the wound, and her back is a mess of old scars, and the fragmented lines of a tattoo. Her arms, what Clarke can see of them, are in similar condition.

“Alright. So hand me the sling, and cross your injured arm across your chest, as if it were in the sling.”

Lexa does as Clarke told her too, and Clarke unties the sling, returning it to the long strips of cloth it had been before.

“Lift up your other arm.”

Lexa does that too, and Clarke moves closer to her, winding the cloth around her arm and chest, trying not to look at Lexa.

“I’m going to tie it here, will you be able to reach that in the morning to undo it?” Lexa nods, and Clarke ties it at her right shoulder. 

Clarke helps Lexa tug her shirt back over her head, and then rolls back to her side of the bed, her heart racing. She hates herself for it, she doesn’t want to have this reaction, but she’s the one that suggested this, suggested all of it.

She hears Lexa’s breathing even out, and she follows her into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The next three days are chaotic. Three guests are murdered, and Lexa’s guards are suspects. After their names are cleared, more people are suspected, and the main purpose of the summit is halted to try to avoid more war. It’s terrifying, but every night Clarke returns to Lexa’s room knowing that as long as Lexa is there nothing can happen, or at least if it happens they’ll be the first to know.

They do paperwork, sitting on opposite ends of the couch. Sorting through letters and updates and documents, each of them reading everything that passes through the room. Sometimes Lexa will pass over a Skaikru letter with a phrase that she doesn’t understand, or Clarke will ask for help translating a word she’s never seen before.

Sometimes they’ll try to outdo each other, staying up until they’re both losing focus from exhaustion, almost falling asleep. Eventually they’ll both haul themselves up and stumble to bed.

Other nights it dissolves into talking. Talking about the summit, about language, about something someone did that was totally normal in space but bizarre on earth. On those nights they stay up late, but the exhaustion doesn’t set in as quickly. 

They never talk while they’re in bed. They lie on their sides, facing away from each other. It’s easier for Clarke to sleep when she can hear Lexa breathing. As long as Lexa is breathing, Clarke’s people will live.

Clarke tells herself this again and again-not just when the summit is on the edge of falling apart. When Lexa’s hand brushes against hers while passing a document, Clarke reminds herself that as long as Lexa lives her people live. She reminds herself when she wakes in the night to find that she’s moved closer to Lexa’s warmth in her sleep.

There’s one night where Lexa travels to a neighboring clan, and Clarke is left alone, back in her old room. She wakes up twice in the night, and almost calls for help both times when she realizes that she can’t hear another person breathing next to her. 

When Lexa gets back, Clarke almost wants to hug her, but doesn’t, instead passing her a pile of documents to go over.

“So this is my welcome home?” Lexa smiles, and Clarke shrugs.

“Think of it as me complimenting your language skills.”

That night Clarke sleeps soundly, only waking up once, and falling quickly asleep again, lulled by the steady breathing next to her.

******

This continues for the next three weeks, as the summit continues to fall apart. Eventually it comes down to a fight to the death between Lexa and Roan, the night before Clarke lies awake listening to Lexa breathe.

When she thinks Lexa is asleep she reaches across the bed and takes Lexa’s hand, wanting the feel the calluses and strength, to give Clarke strength in case she’s alone the next night, and every night after.

Lexa squeezes back gently, and Clarke freezes, but Lexa doesn’t stir. Clarke knows she should let go, should curl up on her own side as far away from Lexa as possible. But she stays there, holding on to Lexa.

Clarke goes to watch the fight, sitting as Skaikru ambassador. She knows that if Lexa dies she’ll have the clearest view of it, and that she’ll have to remain stone faced as the last hope for her people bleeds out in front of her.

She wonders if this is really about her people anymore.

The fight is long and brutal. Lexa keeps having to switch between her right and left hand, her shoulder wound not yet healed. She holds her own though right up until the last minute.

When the hilt of Roan’s sword slams into the side of her head she falls like a ton of bricks, hitting the ground and not getting up. Roan circles her, spinning his sword, looking less predatory and more like another caged animal. Clarke knows he has no real hate for Lexa, but she also knows that this is his ticket home.

Roan finally ends his pacing, and lifts his sword, about to deliver a kill strike to the unconscious girl on the ground. But at the last second, Lexa rolls over, and barely brings her sword up in time. The shock of his blow deflecting sends Roan stumbling, and Lexa manages to roll to her knees.

Before he can get his bearings Lexa throws her sword, striking him in the back of the thigh, sending him facedown. It’s a dirty move, but the crowd cheers. Lexa stands unsteadily and walks over to him, pulling her sword out of his leg and allowing him to roll onto his back. She sends the blade downwards, but instead of killing him it slides through his right bicep, pinning him to the ground.

There’s cheering, and no one seems to care that Roan is still breathing. He’s been beaten, Lexa has proven her strength, and no one but this Ice Nation Queen seems put out by this.

Clarke has more important things on her mind. Lexa walks form the ring unsupported, arms held up in victory, but she’s weaving slightly. 

Clarke fights her way down to the group of healers that are gathered around Lexa in the tent. Lexa is nodding off on the table, and one of the healers is in charge of keeping her awake, patting her face, shaking her.

“I’ve got it.” Clarke takes her place, taking Lexa’s face in her hands. “Hey, you have to stay awake. You got hit pretty hard.”

Lexa frowns, eyes unfocused, as healers bandage her head, and the numerous gashes on her arms and shoulders. Her eyes drift shut, and Clarke shakes her   
slightly.

“Lexa you can’t go to sleep.”

“Why. Where am I?” Lexa is confused, and her eyes aren’t tracking properly. She’s badly concussed.

“You got hit in the head. You have a concussion, and you need to stay awake.” Clarke needs to keep her talking. “Do you remember getting hit?”

Lexa stares blankly for a long moment, and then nods.

“I need to speak with the ice nation queen.”

“No, whatever she wants, it can wait.”

“Clarke…” Lexa loses her train of thought and looks lost, unsure of what’s going on. “The alliance. She needs…to. She needs to formally surrender.”

“Lexa…” Clarke stumbles when Lexa latches onto her to pull herself up.

“I can do this.” Lexa stands unsteadily, and inspects the bandages on her arms and knee. There’s no open wound on her head, just a lump. She steadies herself,   
but tears leak out of the corners of her eyes.

“Here, sit down, I’ll help you walk out there when the meeting is called. No sooner.” Clarke gathers up Lexa’s tears and uses them to smudge her warpaint back in place so she looks presentable. 

“Thanks.” Lexa whispers. Clarke guides her to sit down on a bench, and Lexa immediately leans against Clarke, head on her chest.

“No sleeping Heda. Remember?” Clarke gently shakes Lexa, and gets a small smile out of her, which quickly turns into a grimace. Clarke takes Lexa's hand and squeezes it. "You'll be okay. Just stay awake."

Just stay here.


	3. Chapter 3

That night Clarke lets Lexa sleep, her head in Clarke’s lap. Every few hours Clarke wakes her up, gets her talking a little. Usually its complaints about being woken up.

As the first rays of light begin to show on the horizon, Clarke slides down in bed next to Lexa. She lies facing her, watching her sleep, soft and protected.

When Lexa moves her hand a few inches and takes Clarke’s hand, Clarke almost jumps. Lexa opens her eyes, sleepy, but with a hint of sadness.

“When he hit me, I saw the blow coming and I knew I couldn’t stop it. I thought I was going to die.” Lexa’s voice is gravelly, and Clarke tries to shush her to stop her own tears from coming. “No, Clarke. Right before, I didn’t think about my people. Or your people.” Lexa’s voice is desperate, and Clarke begins to worry that Lexa is becoming delirious.

“Lexa…”

“I thought about you. Your face, your smile, your laugh. That was what I was going to die with.” Lexa blinks away tears. “I’m so sorry. I still…I don’t know how to   
let go of you. You’re in my heart, and I know you don’t want to be in there, but I can’t get you out.”

Clarke slips an arm around Lexa’s waist, and kisses her forehead.

“Shhhh it’s alright. Just go to sleep.”

****

Clarke isn’t reminded of the conversation again for almost a week. All the guests leave Polis, the queen goes back to the north, and Lexa’s head heals a bit.

In the night, after Clarke has finally allowed herself a few hours of sleep, she’s drifting somewhere between sleeping and wakefulness when the drill starts. Distant, as if through old speakers, but she can hear it tearing through flesh and bone. And the screaming, it isn’t distant. Screams like that could never be distant, even through a speaker it would seem as if the screams had cut through the stone of the mountain itself. 

She needs to help, needs to do something, but her feet are stuck to the floor and she can’t lift her gun. Her limbs are too heavy and she can hear them talking,   
they’re about to start on another and…

“Clarke. Clarke, shhhh.” She surfaces, gasping, to feel warm arms around her. Lexa is holding her gently, rocking back and forth. “Shhhh it’s just a dream.”

Clarke wants to get away, she wants to cry, she wants to be the kind of mess that she should be. But instead she turns and clings to Lexa, face buried in her shoulder looking for protection.

****

They don’t mention it the next morning, but three nights later Clarke wakes to hear sobbing next to her, and she finds Lexa asleep and in tears.

“Hey, Lexa.” Clarke shakes her, and Lexa slowly surfaces. She shakes her head in confusion, and looks up at Clarke. “You had a nightmare.” 

Lexa stares blankly for a moment, and then nods slowly. She wipes the tears away from her face, and keeps her face turned towards Clarke.

Clarke kisses her forehead, and wraps her arms around Lexa, pulling her close. Lexa turns away, and takes Clarke’s arm, pulling it tighter around her.

It’s somehow easier to sleep, feeling Lexa’s ribs move with her breathing.

****

Two weeks later Clarke goes back to Arkadia. She has to, it’s expected. Her mother is expecting her back, wanted her back months ago.

“I’ll be back to visit soon.” They hug in the safety of Lexa’s room, Clarke shaking a little bit.

“Are you going to tell your mom? About any of this?”

“I don’t know yet.” Clarke pulls away, picking up her bag. “I haven’t seen her for weeks. I haven’t seen any of them for weeks.”

Clarke goes alone on horseback to Arkadia, and hesitates when she sees the gates. It seems so small and fragile. The mountains and the mist make it look like some lonely outpost.

She approaches the gates, and they swing open. She’s grateful that there’s no fanfare, only a few people run off, and the only people they return with are Abby and Raven.

Abby hugs her tightly, and Clarke feels guilty for leaving her for so long. Despite everything that’s happened they’re still family, the only family either of them has left.

Abby’s cabin is close to the medical bay, and there’s an empty room waiting for Clarke. It’s freezing and bare, a bunk bed in the corner, paint chipped to expose metal, is the only furniture.

She leaves her bag, and heads out with Raven. The section that Raven works in is thankfully a mess, parts strewn everywhere, soot smeared on the walls. It’s organic, in the way Polis is.

“It’s a pain in the ass keeping this place running, but someone has to do it.” Raven shows Clarke a generator she’s working on that could return power to the bridge, and open more living space to people. There’s still part of the population that lives in tents, or sleeps on the floor of the dining hall during cold nights. “I need about five more of this part, three more of another part. We were running low on parts while we were up there, and crashing and getting partially blown up hasn’t helped the situation.”

Clarke picks up the parts one by one, at first just pretending she has any clue what Raven’s been talking about. But then she remembers the streets of Polis, how the merchants would sell old technology. Sometimes for function, to repair old buildings, sometimes as curiosities, or as jewelry. 

“Hey, Raven. There might be some of this in Polis. I’ve seen them selling things, they just have piles of old tech lying around.”

“’Old tech’ Clarke babe, you’ve been living with them for too long if you’ve started calling machine parts ‘old tech’.”

“But they have things like this. Lying around, being sold. And it is old, a century old.”

“Fair point.” Raven leans against the table, looking at Clarke finally. “So you’re saying they have this in Polis? Left over from the war?”

“I don’t know if they have the specific parts you need. But it’s worth a shot.”

It doesn’t even occur to Clarke until she’s said it, but if she takes Raven to Polis then Lexa will be there. She thinks back to the cold steel of her room on the Ark, and then to the warmth of Lexa beside her, and realizes that this is a good plan.

“Alright, yeah, definitely worth a shot.” Raven looks over the parts she has. “I’m going to go through my stuff then, see what we could use more of. Can you talk to Abby, see if medical can clear me? I’m not on the list approved to leave the gates.”

“There’s a list?” Clarke had assumed that besides the danger of the Ice Nation, Arkadians were free to come and go as they liked.

“You’re work assignment has to require you leaving, and you need to be cleared by medical.”

“Okay, I’ll get her to.” Clarke has zero faith that her asking Abby will have any impact on what Abby decides. 

Clarke leaves the workshop and goes to the hanger, which besides being used as a garage for the rovers, is now the mess, and the meeting area.

One the way she sees more of Arkadia- the gardens that have been planted in her absence, the wooden houses lining the road out to the gates. Corn has been planted outside the gates, the stalks only knee high.

There’s a stable inside the walls, towards the gate. Octavia is brushing one of the horses outside in the sun. She acknowledges Clarke with a nod.

It reminds Clarke of Polis, the only thing it’s lacking is the open stalls selling food and goods. Everything is still collective and rationed in Arkadia.

Inside the hanger people are gathered around tables, eating, talking. Clarke gets her ration of bread and soup, and sits in a corner, hoping no one notices her. She should have changed earlier, she’s still dressed like a grounder.

She successfully goes unnoticed for a long time until Octavia comes in and sits next to her.

“So you’re back?” 

“Yeah. At least for now.” Clarke says, and she notices Octavia looking her up and down.

“When do you go back?”

“Raven and I are planning to go back to look for parts that she needs. We don’t know when yet.” Clarke knows she should offer to take Octavia with them, but keeps her mouth shut.

“I’m leaving too.” Octavia whispers it, and Clarke is sure she’s heard wrong.

“Leaving? On an assignment?” 

“No.” Octavia shakes her head. “Lincoln’s kill order has been lifted, but he can’t go back to his people. And I can’t stay here. So we’re going east, to join the boat people. They have a docking point near Lincoln’s old village, we’ll go and get on the next ship heading south.”

“Does everyone else know?”

“Only Bellamy.” 

“He’s alright with it?”

“No. But he’ll live.”

“When?”

“Soon. A week, maybe two. We need to get some supplies together for the trip.”

“You could ride to Polis with us. It’s a port city too, might give you more options. You wouldn’t have to settle for the first rowboat you see.”

Octavia smiles. “Maybe. Tell me when your trip gets approved. Maybe we’ll tag along.”

“If it gets approved. I don’t think my mom wants to let me out of her sight again.” Clarke sees Abby at the other end of the hanger. “I might wait a few days, until Raven knows what she needs to find there.”

“Nah, be upfront. It’s better that way.”

“You’re telling me to be upfront about my comings and goings?” Clarke laughs, flicking water at Octavia. “Any advice you give me is taken with a grain of salt at best. Maybe a few grains with this one.”

“Okay. But she is your family. She should know.” Octavia waves to Abby, and then gets up and leaves, abandoning Clarke to have a meal with her mother for the first time in months.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the wait. Life got crazy!

“How’s it going with medical?” Clarke asks, a few minutes into the awkward silence.

“It’s fine. We’re low on some things, but we don’t have as many people needing it now. The worst thing I’ve seen this week has been a laceration that needed a few stitches.”

“That’s good. Really good.” It seems almost impossible, that the worst thing that could happen was bumps and bruises.

“How’s Polis?”

“Good, it’s really good. Peaceful.”

“That’s good.”

“Do you trade a lot with Polis?” It’s off topic and out of place, but on the Ark approval for anything-even a new lightbulb- can take ages. She needs to start now.

“Not much. With the villages nearby, but no one else. We trade directly with them- medical care, help stabilizing old structures, food. We go to Polis sometimes. None of the other clans trust us though.”

“Raven wants to go to Polis, to trade for parts. She wants to get that generator up and running.”

“And you want to go with her. Back to Polis.” Abby stares off into space, and Clarke sees the lines sunk deep into her face.

“The trip doesn’t have to be right now. We can wait, but the generator won’t be running until we can get the parts.” Clarke hates being the source of her mother’s stress, but Arkadia still makes her skin crawl. There’s something about it, something unsettling that she’s never felt before. Like something awful crawling in the walls.

“Why won’t you stay here? We’re your people. You’re my kid.” Abby’s words sting, reminding Clarke of how selfish she’s being.

“It’s just been awhile, since I’ve been here. I haven’t been living here…for a while.” There’s no good reason for her to leave. Just like there was no good reason for her to leave after taking down Mount Weather. That’s what happens when there’s a chance at peace-she bolts. It’s been nearly five months since she was last here for more than a night or two. Three months in the forest, two in Polis. Before that, a few weeks fighting Mount Weather, a few weeks on the ground with the Hundred, and before that, months of solitary. All adding up to nearly two years without a home, without peace.

The forest is more home to her than this place, Polis is more home than this place. 

“Stay, at least two weeks, please. I’ll get a trading run approved for Raven. The generator can wait that long.”

“Okay.” Two weeks, she can survive two weeks.

**************************************************

Clarke walks barefoot along the cold floors, fingers trailing along the bulkhead. Cold light streams in through the window, and it’s blinding, even with the solar filters dampening it. A thin crescent of moon floats above earth, far below.

She tears herself away and walks to the end of the hall, but instead of what she knows should be medical, there’s only an airlock, her father standing alone behind the sealed doors. She tries to run and pry them open, but her feet are rooted to the ground. She watches helplessly as the outer doors open, and air pours in.

The blisters come first. Covering his face, arms, spots of blood soaking through his shirt. Then the realization, when he starts pounding the door, screaming, begging to be let in. Blood smearing across the glass. 

She can finally move, and she races forward, opening the doors and kneeling next to him, trying to pull him to safety. But the damage has been done, his skin releasing it’s hold on the tissue below, his lungs disintegrated, chunks of burned tissue coughed up with each breath.

She pulls the knife out of her pocket and slits his throat, for the third time in three nights.

*****************************  
“Did you have nightmares a lot in Polis?” Clarke and Raven are sitting on the roof of the medical bay, watching people leave the Ark to start the day’s work. It’s just before dawn, and Clarke ‘s throat is raw from the last three nights.

“No, not like those. And not three days in a row.” She’s shaking, hands trembling. The nights have been hell, and the days have only been slightly better. Everyone stares at her curiously, knowing her either as Clarke Griffin, Commander of Death, or as Girl That Wakes Up Screaming. It’s worse when they don’t stare and she just blends in, because when Kane had tapped her shoulder from behind in the food line she’d turned around, wholeheartedly expecting to see her father.

“You should move out, get your own place. We have a guardsroom, there’s two bunkbeds, five of us. There’s a free bunk if you want it.”

“Sounds squished.”

“Well for you, yeah, the bunk we have left is on top where the ceiling slants down. There’s about two feet of space. I get the best bunk, the one under yours, and then Monty and Harper have the other bottom bunk. Bellamy and Gina have the other top bunk.”

“You’d think they’d want to get a place to themselves, them being slightly more legitimate adults than the rest of us.”

“Hey, we’re low on space. They have dibs on a cabin when we get sector b up and running. But for now, we squish.” 

“I’m in, I guess. As long as you don’t mind the screaming.”

“Hey, happens to the best of us. Harper and I get it sometimes. Mount Weather, you know. Never heard of epidurals.” 

There’s an awkward silence-an acknowledgement that things had gotten a little too real.

“I’ll get my stuff then. Do you want help getting down or are you gonna be up here all day?”

“Ugh, I’ll get down. Sinclair could probably use the help.”

Clarke scoots down to the join of two Ark segments, and carefully picks her way down the stack of supplies that they’d climbed up. Raven follows, Clarke helping   
her find footholds.

“So which cabin is it?”

“Guardsroom twelve- it’s in the segment near the fence. If you go in by the greenhouse it’s close to that end.”

“Okay, thanks. Thanks a lot.”

Clarke keeps an eye on Raven until she gets to the engineering section door, and then heads to her room.

She only has a small backpack-a few changes of clothes, a book Lexa had given her, a washcloth. She wonders if she should take her pillow and blanket but decides against it. She’ll see what’s there and make a second trip if she needs to.

When she steps into the hall she runs into the last person that she wants to see at the moment.

“Clarke, where are you going?” Abby grabs the strap of Clarke’s bag, weighing the contents. More than necessary for a day trip.

“Raven and some other kids have space in a cabin and asked me to move in with them.”

“Clarke, they have a guardsroom. There’s at least four of them already in there. There isn’t enough space.”

“Five actually. I’ll make six. They have a top bunk open. It’s mine if I want it.”

There’s a silence. It’s not as icy as it could be, it’s more sad. Because this isn’t working. Something has to give. Another night in that cold room alone and Clarke thinks that she might run off into the forest again.

“I survived on the ground with them Mom. We’ve seen the same stuff. I feel safe with them.”

“Do you feel safe in Arkadia?” The question makes Clarke stare her feelings in the face. The discomfort, the depression, the disorientation. It’s not fear, but it isn’t pleasant either.

“It’s been so long.” She doesn’t have anything to add to that. “It’s just been so long.”

“Will you still work with me in medical before the trading group goes to Polis?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. I’ll go over Raven’s medical files and get her on the list.”


	5. Chapter 5

Clarke passes the guards and they barely nod to her. She’s relieved at how seamlessly she slips into the fabric of the tower, as if she never left.

Lexa is sleeping, and Clarke quickly changes into nightclothes and approaches her.

“Hey. I’m back.” Clarke sits on the edge of the bed, next to her. Lexa mumbles sleepily, and then flinches awake.

“Clarke?” She settles back into the blankets, confused. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Don’t look so happy to see me.” Clarke crawls across the foot of the bed to her own side and gets in. “I hopped on a trading run to Polis with a friend. We just got in.”

“I missed you.” Lexa moves closer, and Clarke wraps an arm around her waist, pulling their bodies together.

“I missed you too.” Clarke kisses Lexa’s shoulder.

Lexa is already asleep again, and Clarke snuggles down into the sheets, cheek against Lexa’s back.

***

The next morning Clarke wakes up to warm light, and a hand holding hers.

“Hey.” Lexa lets go, and scoots away, just for enough to avoid physical contact.

“Hey.” Clarke faces her, missing the contact. She finally reaches over and takes Lexa’s hand again. “How’s it been going?”

“It’s been going. Just quiet so far, but things might be picking back up again.” 

“Picking up good, or picking up bad?” Clarke hasn’t heard pf anything much happening. Arkadia mostly keeps to itself, producing its own food and water and   
only leaving to the occasional trading trip to Polis. “Is it something about Arkadia?”

“It’s fine, we just need a smaller summit to talk about trade with Arkadia. The last one made Arkadia the thirteenth clan, so no one can attack you, but trade agreements are technically outside of my control. Because your people don’t have a hundred years of trading history with the other clans, a meeting will set some ground rules.”

“Great. So when do we start?” Clarke is relieved that she can be a part of something else in Polis, something away from Arkadia.

“Clarke? Is there something going on in Arkadia?”

“No, why?”

“Because you don’t seem to want to be there.” There’s something in Lexa’s voice, more than one thing. Like she’s not sure if she needs the be Commander right now, or a concerned friend.

“The last time there was peace on the ark my father was alive. He was an engineer, and my mother was a doctor, and I was training to be a doctor, and my best friend was named Wells. And then they killed my father and kept me in solitary until they send me down here. And it’s been nothing but war and death since then. Until now, there’s peace, and there’s hope, and every corner I turn I think I’ll see him. And every time I help my mother it brings me back to that time, and I remember him, and that she killed him. I can’t be there, I can see his dead face staring at me all the time.” Clarke realizes that she’s crying. She’s crying and spilling her guts to Lexa in broad daylight.

Lexa moves, and hugs Clarke, and Clarke clings to her, letting Lexa pull her back to the present. 

“You can stay here as long as you want to.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know very little about both astrology and tattoos.

Clarke spends the morning showing Raven around, helping her find the places that Clarke remembers seeing the parts. After an hour or two though, Raven has picked up an entourage of people, mostly kids, but a few closer to her age. They come armed with years of experience navigating the city, and knowledge of who’s selling what. Harper meets them at noon, relieved from guarding the rover.

“Clarke go, I have the help I need. You basically live here, you probably have stuff to do.” Raven waves Clarke off.

Clarke wanders the city aimlessly for a little while, and is about to start a serious search for some food when a hand grabs hers.

“Hey. Up for a trip?” Lexa tugs Clarke down a side street.

“Where? I need to be back tonight for the bonfire.” 

“You’ll be back, don’t worry.”

They walk to the edge of the city- to a quiet area with a stream running through it. There aren’t many ruins here, and the homes are log cabins- like Clarke had seen in books on the Ark.

“Most villages near the mountain are encampments that dug in and stayed. I thought you might like to see a regular one.”

The roads are wide, and there’s a grid pattern- city blocks. Some stores have signs out front, in English and Trig, and other buildings seem to be homes. The other villages Clarke had seen were ramshackle- ruins used for shelter, tents, a few shacks that had been built. Villages constantly under attack, losing people to Mount Weather.

“It’s so pretty.” People walk by, leading animals, carrying laundry. A group of children run by, chasing some escaped goats.

They cut in behind some buildings and walk along the creek. They’re out of earshot of anyone, and the pressure lifts.

“I was from a town like this. Out west. My parents weren’t warriors. I mean they were, I guess, when they had to be. But it wasn’t as often. They were farmers.”

“What happened to them?”

“Nothing, they’re still alive as far as I know. They knew that the flamekeepers would find me eventually, so they sent me with Anya so I could be her second. They wanted me to have the best chance possible to survive the conclave. I went back to look for them, but they’d left, gone further west.”

“What’s out west, anyway? What happened to the rest of the world?” Clarke has a vague idea of where the coalition boundaries are, but no idea what could be past them.

“I’ll find a map for you later.” Lexa takes her hand again and helps her across the stream. “Come on, this shop is kind of cool.”

The house on the other side of the creek is hung with banners, harsh black shapes, some forming shapes of animals, some just geometric designs. The English sign is broken in half, and Lexa pulls Clarke inside before she can figure out the trikru one.

The inside is a wide open space, light streaming in from under the eaves. A few lanterns hang, illuminating the dark corners. The walls are covered with designs, and a few dummies stand around, cloth covered human forms. These have designs too, and Clarke realizes why the banners had seemed familiar. She’s seen these designs before. On people’s skin.

“It’s a tattoo shop.” She looks over at Lexa. “Right?”

“Yeah. Anya took me here for my first one. She said it’s cleaner than I’d get anywhere else.”

“Which one was your first?” 

Lexa tugs down the shoulder of her shirt, exposing the back of her shoulder.

“It’s the Trikru symbol with the Plains Riders symbol around it. Our village flew it on their flag-we lived near the border with them.”

The tattoo is the size of an arrowhead, and Clarke recognizes the Trikru symbol, with a thin triangle surrounding it. 

“It’s pretty.” She almost reaches out and touches it, but stops herself.

“Can I help you girls with anything?” Clarke jumps when out of the corner of her eye a mountain seems to duck through the door.

“Towson!” Lexa hugs him, and starts asking a billion questions about his family, about other people they both knew. Clarke turns away to look at the paintings. So Lexa does have friends. It’s a relief, Clarke had been feeling weird about having so many while Lexa seemed to have none.

She finds constellations, a panel of ones that she doesn’t recognize- maybe grounder ones, a few of the more traditional ones, and then a sheet of paper tacked to the wall.

It has traditional zodiac signs. She’d learned a little about them, studying earth culture. But mostly what she remembers it her father pointing out the pattern in the stars. “That’s you and me, kid. We’re Scorpios. Born under the scorpion constellation.”

Scorpio wasn’t a particularly prominent constellation, but Clarke had always been able to find it. Because it was something that she and her father shared, something that couldn’t be taken away. He’d always told her that Scorpio meant survival and bravery. Whatever the world threw at her, she’d be able to handle it. She’d clung to those words on the ground, and hoped he was right.

She stands by the paper, looking at the lines connecting the stars. She hasn’t looked at the stars much in Polis, there’s so many lanterns on the streets below that she can’t see them as well. And there’s something magical about the lanterns too.

A hand takes hers and tugs.

“Ready to go?” Lexa smiles, and Clarke panics a little. She hasn’t thought this out, hasn’t ever thought of something like this. Tattoos were unheard off in space.

“I want to get one.” She points at the Scorpion.

“The scorpion? Isn’t that a little bit…rough?” Lexa squeezes Clarke’s hand. “You aren’t the things you’ve had to do, Clarke. And there’s kill marks for things like   
that. Tattoos are a mark of pride.”

“It’s not about Mt Weather. In space, my father and I had the same star sign. It’s a part of both of us.” 

Lexa reaches out and touches the sign.

“Alright. I’ll go get Towson.”

She has a few misgivings when she sees him sitting by a fire, plucking some nasty looking implements out of a pan of boiling water with tongs. He’s sterilizing them, she realizes. In a makeshift autoclave. Even knowing that the tools were clean, she still isn’t a fan of them going into her skin.

Inside Towson looks over the design, and the nods.

“Where do you want it?”

Clarke tugs down the shoulder of her shirt, and points to the back of it. He sketches out the design on her skin, holding up a mirror for her to check it. It’s nice. Large enough to be recognizable but small enough to not be glaring. She sits in the chair he has in the beam from one of the skylights, bent over so that he can swab her back with some kind of sharp smelling paste. Hopefully another kind of antiseptic.

She’s tense, ready for the pain, when Lexa kneels in front of her, and takes her hand. She rubs it gently, easing out the tension, and lacing their fingers together.

“Are you ready?”

Clarke nods, and Lexa nods to Towson.

The pain is there. Not has severe as Clarke had anticipated, but stinging, burning. First sharp, jabbing, as the stars are done, then smaller, needling, as they’re connected. She takes slow breaths, and tries to relax, even though she’d gripping Lexa’s hand as tightly as she can.

There’s a wet cloth wiping away the paste, and another rubbed into the irritated skin. A thin cloth is laid over it, and more paste is spread on top of that.

“Done. Keep it covered a few days, once it scabs and then the scabs fall off, it’ll be ready.”

“Thank you.” She stands unsteadily, and goes outside, leaving Lexa and Towson to talk. A moment later Lexa follows, taking her hand again.

“How do you feel?”

“A little bit dizzy. Hungry, I think.” Her shoulder stings, but not badly. It’s just different.

“Come on, I know a good place.” They get skewers of meat and some kind of vegetable- potato, she thinks. Potato can be cooked so many ways, any guess that something was potato was a decent guess.

 

They walk along the creek behind the buildings, picking their way along the rocks. She feels better, steady, herself. She hadn’t eaten since that morning, and it's already late in the day.

“You have to get back for the bonfire, don’t you?” Lexa asks. “Usually they start at sundown.”

“I guess.” Clarke hesitates, and stops, gently tugging Lexa’s hand so that she turns to face her. Her hair is tied back in a braid, a brightly colored headband keeping stray strands away from her face. It doesn’t make her look like someone else, exactly, but it throws her in a different direction. It throws most people off enough to not recognize her.

There’s a streak of something on her cheek, dirt, or maybe some war paint from the meeting the day before. Clarke rubs it away with her thumb. As her thumb drops back to her side it brushes Lexa’s lips. The dirt had distracted Clarke before, but now she can’t stop looking at Lexa’s lips, feeling a sudden jolt in her chest.

Embarrassed, she steps back. “Which way to the bonfire?”

“This way.” Lexa looks dazed, but take’s Clarke’s hand again, and helps her up the bank to the street.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I am so sorry, it's literally been months. I got kicked out of college, had heart surgery (the reason that I got kicked out of college), reapplied to college, and started at a new college (one that I will hopefully not get kicked out of).

The fire reminds Clarke of those first few days on the ground. Moonshine, fire, everyone just celebrating being alive. She sits on the rover hood with Raven and Harper, egging on whoever in whatever dumb stunt they were trying to pull. It doesn’t matter. What matters is the woodsmoke, the feeling of alcohol in her system, the way Harper and Raven hang onto her, trying to keep from slipping off the sides of the rover.

There’s other people too, but all Clarke bothers to see is the 100. Limping, weaving, dancing, they all move differently to accommodate their injuries, but the voices are the same. They’d been so happy the first few days on Earth, even when things were screwed up. And they’re happy now. Still pretty screwed up. There’s peace, unlimited oxygen, nearly unlimited food. A future.

For some of them. Going back to Arkadia had forced her to face how badly broken she was. They all have shell shock, but tied to different things, and for Clarke it’s her home.

Harper clambers off the rover and Clarke sees her join Monty over by the barrel they brought the moonshine in. Sleeping in the same room with them she’s heard them talking about getting married, having kids. It’s too soon now, but someday.

What kind of future does she want? She likes the way things are now, with Lexa. Going to sleep next to her, waking up next to her, the way they’ve moved closer over the months, from the edges of the bed to the center. Is that a future? Lying beside someone that she has so many confusing feelings about. Night after night. She thinks about that day, that moment in the woods. She feels something. She doesn’t know what to do about it, but she feels it.

“Come on, you’re getting that look in your eyes like your gonna go sleep with someone you’ll regret. I have dibs on the bed in the rover, let’s go cuddle.” Raven drags her off the rover and into the back, where there’s a narrow cot barely big enough for one person. Raven clumsily shucks off her brace, and crawls into bed. “Get, in, I’m cold.”

Clarke reluctantly climbs in with Raven, shifting uncomfortably, not wanting to hurt her. Raven assures her that lying flat with Clarke partially on top of her is what’s easiest on her back, and tells Clarke that if she moves again before morning she’s going to get smacked.

The cot actually isn’t bad, and when Clarke is in and out of sleep, it feels just like any other night, with Lexa. The heartbeat is the base of the difference though. Her ear is against Raven’s collarbone and she can hear Raven's heart. It’s what tells her that she’d not where she’s supposed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The slow burn stops next chapter, I promise guys.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning they roll out of bed, or in most cases sit up on the ground where they’d slept, and cook breakfast. Everyone is hungover, and works their way through several buckets of cold water before the corn cakes are ready.  
When Raven goes to get ready for another day of searching for parts, Clarke slips away into the tower. She needs clean clothes, a bath would be nice but she doesn’t know when she’ll have time for that. 

“Hey.” Lexa opens the door while Clarke is brushing her hair, slowly coming to terms with the fact that it really needs to be washed. “Have a good night?”

“Yep. Feeling it today though.” They’ll be around for another night, and then pack up early the next morning. Nobody expects Clarke to come with them. Her mother made her promise to visit at least once a month, and there was a general expectation that when Skaikru came to Polis, she’d be there to at least check in with them. She’s still the ambassador, but now she’s taking on different roles than just meetings.

“Are you going to be here tonight? I wanted to run some things by you.” This isn’t something common. They don’t make plans to have discussions. Important things that are political are discussed in meetings. Important things that aren’t political are discussed at two am when one of them has woken up screaming.

“I don’t know yet. Maybe. Depends if we’re feeling up to another night like last night.” Clarke is pretty sure that she isn’t up for another night of drinking, and doesn’t want another night away from Lexa. 

“You didn’t come back last night, I got worried.”

“It was late, my friends made me crash with them so I wouldn’t have to walk across the city.”

So Lexa was thinking about her last night to.

They both grab their clothes for the day, and Lexa goes to get ready for whatever political meeting she has that day, and Clarke heads down to the showers to try to wash the night before off of her.

The showers are in a basement a few blocks from the tower, where an underground river has been routed to create a series of waterfalls. As post apocalyptic showers go, it’s pretty good. There’s lanterns everywhere, and low stone walls separate areas into shower stalls. Clarke scrubs herself down, the cold water feeling nice, compared to the humidity outside. It’s May, she thinks. Almost summer. She dreads it. The Ark was always cold, the chill of space seeping into everything. Winter on the ground had been difficult as snow and ice was new, but they had barely felt the cold. Summer would be harder on them.

When she makes her way back to the Skaikru campsite she joins Raven and Harper again, to go walk through the city. The plan is to spend the morning trading, and then if they’ve accomplished what they need to for this trip, to find something fun to do for the afternoon.

“They have the parts, it’s just that nothing is centralized. It’s one here, one there. No one is collecting them to sell.” Despite bemoaning the situation, Raven seems pleased with the bag she’s managed to fill with various nuts and bolts, and other things that Clarke doesn’t know about. By noon they’ve manage to scrape up enough to call it a day.

“I can get the generator going with what we’ve got, after that we can regroup and decide what we need going forwards.” Raven stows the parts, and then they take off across the city.

No one is swimming yet, the Grounders in this area are used to the climate. Winter is what’s cold, summer is what’s hot. It’s still cold enough to them to not swim. The Skaikru however, are roasting.

They strip off their pants and shirts when they get to the river, splashing in. Gina is the strongest swimmer, and she helps Raven to the water when she takes her brace off, sticking with her and helping her swim.

It’s fun, the break from their lives. Or at least, her friend’s lives in Arkadia. Polis is where her life is now, as much as she wishes she could go back to her home.

That night everyone goes to bed early, preparing for the journey back to Arkadia. It’s a half day’s ride by horseback, but a full day by way of the trade roads, clogged with wagons, and people walking. Despite the speed of the rover, they have a full day on the road coming up.

Clarke promises to stop by the next morning, and leaves to go back to the tower. 

Lexa is napping on the couch, but stirs when Clarke shuts the door.

“You’re back early.”

“Yeah. Long day today, long day for them tomorrow. They decided to sleep instead of party tonight.” Clarke sits by Lexa’s feet, and Lexa sits up and pulls her blanket around her shoulders. “What’s up?”

“It’s almost time for the villages to begin planting this season.” 

“Oh.” Why did Lexa want to set aside time to tell her something like that?

“It’s expected that fighting between clans will stop for a few weeks so that planting can be done. In peacetime all ambassadors are expected to go home to their homes to handle things there.”

“Oh.” So Lexa’s telling her that she has to go. After everything Clarke had told her a few mornings ago. The betrayal stings, and she bites the inside of her mouth, determined to not show how upset she is.

“I’m going somewhere. I don’t know where yet, but I always go somewhere when I get the chance. Will you come with me?” Lexa stands, and faces Clarke.

“Where would we go?” 

“Anywhere you want.” The narrow panic of being forced to go home dissipates into an equally intimidating field of endless options. She’s seen maps of North America. Old ones, new ones. She’s heard of a few landmarks. But there’s so much out there. So much more than she could ever imagine.

“Anywhere?”

“Yes.” Lexa reaches out, nearly touching Clarke’s hand, but not quite. “When I swore fealty to you, I thought of an old saying, older than the commanders, older than the bombs. ‘Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following thee, for where you go, I will go, where you lodge, I will lodge. Your people will be my people’. I swore that your people would be my people. But I was thinking of all of it, when I said it. I wanted all of it. But only if you do.”

It’s dizzying, what Lexa is offering, what she wants. Clarke has heard the entire phrase. It’s not something that you ask for lightly. It’s asking for a future.

Their eyes meet, and Clarke wants her. She wants to feel Lexa’s weight on the mattress every night. Wants to go to sleep next to her, wake up next to her. She wants more than that. She wants more days where Lexa takes her hand in the street, she wants to bring Lexa to Arkadia to show her what life had been like in space. She isn’t scared of the nightmares anymore because she knows that on the other side Lexa will be there, holding her tight.

And right now, Clarke really wants to kiss her.

Lexa’s lips are as soft as Clarke remembers them being, they feel like home. Lexa gasps, her fingers tangling in Clarke’s hair, her hand shaking.   
It feels like their first kiss did, so many months ago. Back then Clarke had leaned into it, starved for human touch, contact, anything to take away the hollow feeling. She wasn’t ready for anything more. But this time she’s not trying to fill a gap, because Lexa has filled that gap for so long. This is just moving forwards. Because she’s ready now.


End file.
